My home means the world to me. I know that may seem silly, but your home is always unique to you. A home is more than walls and a roof.
My home is a place I can go when I’m feeling down. A place where I can feel safe and never embarrassed. A place I can be alone but never lonely. There are people who love me and memories in the walls. It’s warm, clean, comfortable and joyful altogether. Home is where I cry and laugh and cuddle and play and sleep. It’s a spot where I’m accepted, a place I call my own.
Most of all a home is a place for love. Home always has someone to talk to when I need it. My home is an ideal spot for everything from being full of delight to feeling better when I’m glum. Home is extraordinary.
When I step into my home each day, the chaos begins! Siblings screeching, brothers wrestling, mom yelling, ‘’Feed the bunnies!’’ I hear the TV buzzing and the laundry machine whirring. But at the end of the day, we gather round the table together and feel a savoury taste on our tongues. I love my home’s clean smell. Sure my home is a little crazy, but I can’t imagine not having one.
When you think about home you look into yourself. Your home is just a piece of you that has walls and a door. The comfort of home is like warmed milk before bed when I can’t sleep.
Some people don’t or can’t have any of these feelings. They don’t have a home. It breaks my heart that some people don’t have a place to go at the end of the day, a place to call their own.